


Gold and Whiskey

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, More Rum, Rum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Not all sex has to involve feelings, but they tend to slip in.  Tricksy things.





	Gold and Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonRider1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonRider1/gifts).

> Written for dragonrider1 - getting to look at a grown-up Carver is a wonderful thing. I hope I did your request justice!

Even as he’d flirted with Merrill, he’d watched someone else. More than watched, sticky in the night, but not enough more.

Merrill was sweet, but she was also a...it hurt to say it, but she was also a malificar.  _ Blood mage.  _ It was what Father had always warned the girls about.

It hurt, but he didn’t forget.

At least, he realized as his mouth started watering again, he knew she wasn’t blood magicking  _ him.  _ Not when what ran electricity down his veins was watching her throat throb, as the pirate who saw nothing in him poured rum down her throat.

No, she’d flirt with Varric, with Anders, with Fenris...she’d even flirt with his  _ sister,  _ but him? He was relegated to some quasi-status; not little brother, not annoyance, but...not a  _ man. _

He’d show her.

**

The Deep Roads came and he left...though Carver knew he’d never really leave the Deep Roads behind. Not when he rummaged around at midnight following the scent of whatever was left in the pot overnight, dripping with fat, meaty promise. Not when the murmuring hunger never quite left his mind, and haunted his dreams. It didn’t matter. When people said ‘Hawke’ here, he knew they were talking about  _ him,  _ not the ever-wonderful, ever-composed Larissa Hawke.

Here, he had a purpose.

Carver dished out two bowls, trading one for the mug of cider Thirie had drawn. She kissed him before digging in herself. The nightmares weren’t every night, but this time - well, he’d woken her, or she’d woken him. He twisted a lock of curly hair around his finger until she yanked it free.

“Carver Hawke!” A lip quirked, her sweet voice only slightly marked by the eastern edge of Antiva’s countryside. “Not while we’re eating!”

He couldn’t object. “After? We wouldn’t want the nightmares to come back too soon, would we?”

It wasn’t how they worked. Not at all.

Where, he wondered as the stew moved smoothly from bowl to spoon to a pleasant warmth in his belly, had the younger man, so uneasy with flirting, gone?

Maybe  _ he’d  _ been lost in the Deep Roads, finally claimed by the Darkspawn that had taken his home.

**

Kirkwall stank the same. At least they didn’t stay long, not as he met up on special orders, a full purse at his hip. “Why now, sister?”

Larissa shrugged. “Wish I knew. This wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

Isabela snorted, along with Varric. It was she who answered.

“That’s why you should stay belowdecks, sweet thing.”

Whatever Carver thought of that vanished when his sister narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you find someone else, Bela? Besides, there are more important things to do.”

Yes, there were. They needed to hunt water every night, pacing their way through the land that went from rocky shore to just rocks, the sand desiccating in the same heat that split their lips. For the first time, Carver was useful; a Warden always needed to pay attention to water, and there were tricks to keeping Darkspawn corruption from you that could work in dusty wind as well. It didn’t change the fact he tasted the empty grit every time he swallowed, but at least it kept the worst of it from their eyes.

Oh, yes.  _ Their  _ eyes. Larissa and Varric managed fine on their own, but for whatever reason the pirate had issues getting everything to work.

Carver twisted the ends of the cloth, tucking them in and around Isabela’s luxurious hair. Even here, she smelled of rum, rich and sharp, but with a peat-and-incense all her own.

“Do I need to show you how to rig a sail?”

He wasn’t the boy who’d fluster any longer. “I’m perfectly capable of navigating that, Isabela.”

She froze a moment, then chuckled. It still sizzled along his blood, for a moment drowning out even the hunger. Well, it didn’t drown it out, but it was a different sort of hunger that filled his veins now. “My, my. You  _ have  _ grown up.”

**

Danger, three years as a Warden had taught Carver, was an aphrodisiac. Not that it mattered when his senses were full of rum - even here - and gold. It stood out, bright against her walnut skin...not that she’d appreciate that comparison. Then again, Isabela might, given the ships she sailed, and brought out all the warmth of every curve.

“Now,” she ordered, that teasing light in her eyes.

Carver shook his head. “Oh, not yet.” Being a Warden had taught him patience.

**

“You’re not just in this for the money, are you?”

Isabela blinked at him. “You can’t be serious? Grey Wardens have stamina, you’ve proven  _ that,  _ but I’ve never heard of them being rich. Or,” she continued thoughtfully, “having ships.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Carver’s voice bounced far enough along that Larissa turned around, but when he waved a hand she spun back to whatever she was focusing on. Probably the way forward, looking for traps. It was awkward, having sex around your older sister, he decided. Especially when Isabela saw no point in being quiet.  _ Or  _ discrete. On the other hand, he wasn’t objecting and neither had his sister. “You know that,” he hissed. “I mean Larissa.”

“Oh, I’d do  _ her  _ for free.”

It wasn’t the insinuation, plain for anyone with ears. Carver pushed Isabela up against the wall, damning the sizzle in his blood, a sizzle  _ she  _ knew was there. “Her. My sister. Are you using her?”

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that Hawke...no, Larissa, damn it he wasn’t going to start doing what everyone else did...trusted the woman he was pressed into, knee to chest. No matter what had happened in their past, she was still his  _ sister,  _ and he loved her. She was still an apostate, no matter that the Knight-Commander hadn’t come for her yet.

“Of course not,” Isabela replied with a toss of her head. “What does she have that I’d want?”

There was that. ‘Isabela’ and ‘Chantry’ only went together if it was ‘services night’ at the Blooming Rose. If only he could read past those eyes, but he couldn’t. Even if he wasn’t melting in the heat of her. Not that he’d admit  _ that.  _

“Good,” he muttered roughly, trying to ignore how close she was.

She didn’t.

“I like the new, grown up you,” Isabela purred. “You’ve really grown into your sword.”

The pirate’s kiss seared through him again. Even with the other Wardens, he’d never felt this sort of rush. Isabela was wrong for him in every way. He knew it. Carver was determined to want more than just sex in a relationship - yet he didn’t pull away.

“Hey! Can you two please catch up?”

Carver did step back at that, knowing from the pulse against Isabela’s skin that once again, he’d given as good as he’d gotten. It didn’t matter. What  _ did  _ matter was dealing with the Carta assassins and this creepy place that made the Tainted hunger grow - a hunger only the woman smiling wanton promises at him seemed to be able to drown out.

**

The first sandblasted breath tore against the sensitive tissue of his nose and throat, but he welcomed it. From experience he knew it would take more than that to drive out the acrid reek of Taint and blood, but it was a good start. One more aching breath, and he opened his eyes to Larissa giving him a look.

“Carver…”

He shook his head. “Shut up,” he replied with more fondness than he’d expected. Her eyes softened, and then somehow their arms were around each other, his chin against the top of her hand. He’d forgotten just how much taller than his ‘big’ sister he’d gotten.

“I’ll miss you.” The words were muffled against the gore-spattered blue-and-silver of his tabard.

Carver tightened his arms until he was surprised she didn’t squeak. “I miss you, too.”

This time, Larissa didn’t call him on the change. She just squeezed one more time and stepped back. “Anything I should tell Mother?”

He shook his head. “No.” His lips twisted. “Just that I’m fine. Look, Larissa…”

This time, she chuckled. “I’ll be careful as long as you are, brother. Now go say goodbye to Isabela.”

His ears burned, he knew it. He also didn’t refuse the chance to walk up one more time to the damnably enticing woman who was oh-so-carelessly staring across the waves of sand.

“I’m going.”

“Of course you are. Look me up if you’re ever in Kirkwall, hm?”

**

Off she vanished with Varric and Larissa, her hair a dark banner against the golden sea.

**

The months passed.

Carver found himself coming closer to the city he’d known once, still not sure why he’d talked Stroud into it.

He knew where Mother and Larissa...no, just Larissa now, were. He couldn’t. Instead, he led their small group down the twisting streets and into the dingy tavern, ducking his head to enter.

The other Wardens shared a room.

He found himself in Isabela’s.

Carver took a gulp of rum straight from the bottle, feeling it evaporate in his throat, before giving the bottle back to the woman sprawled across him.

“Mmm…” purred Isabela. “I do like your stamina.”

She hadn’t let him get in a single word or question, not even after the third time. He took the bottle back, taking another drink from the rim warm from her lips. It evaporated just like the rest. “Don’t wake me up if you want another go.”

When he woke, she was gone.

No, not entirely. One gold bangle had fallen from her magpie’s horde. Carver tucked it in a pocket; it’s not like it had much value. Why? He didn’t want to consider it, not when he knew better.

Stepping out of the Hanged man was chaos. He ducked a thrown brick, shocked at the fires. This was not a normal riot. Instead of looking for Isabela, he hurried back and banged on the other Wardens’ door. “Hurry! Arm yourselves!”

**

Qunari, Carver already knew, bled as red as any human. More red than he did, these days. Ash choking the air and burning his eyes, he could almost ignore the flood that lapped against his boots in places.  _ Larissa. _

“We have to find her!”

Stroud didn’t nod this time. “She will be fine, I am certain of it. You Hawkes are survivors.”

They were - until they weren’t.

Father.

Bethany.

Mother, the wound still raw after Gamlen’s letter. He wanted to hear from Larissa, but wasn’t surprised she couldn’t write  _ those  _ words.

No. He’d find her. By Andraste herself, he’d find his sister. Isabela was a survivor, too. She’d be with Larissa. Varric was gone; he wouldn’t abandon her.

Couldn’t.

_ Please. _

**

He almost stumbled over them, only the familiar feel of his sister’s spells nipping at his arm turning his sword in time. “Larissa!”

There weren’t any Qunari or terrified people at the moment. They hugged, ignoring the smears they left on each other’s armor.

“Larissa,” he sighed. “You’re alive.”

She sniffled against his armor, breathing in the filth that surrounded them, then stepped back. “Carver. I’m sorry...Mother…”

“I know.” He couldn’t make her say it, then bit his impatient tongue as she winced. “Gamlen told me,” Carver tried more gently. Larissa’s hand was close enough to squeeze, and the others; Varric, Fenris...and was that Merrill in the background? In either case, they all looked outward, giving them a moment.

One familiar banner of salt and promise wasn’t there. “Oh, Maker. Isabela?”

Larissa’s lips tightened. “Gone.”

Her lips kept moving, but they just echoed the word in his head, sharp and bitter.

Then something, a new barb that dug into his sister’s soul, caught him.

“What?”

“She was the one who’d taken it. Somehow, it never came up in the last four years. Well, we found it, and she’s gone. The one thing that could have gotten rid of the Arishok, and look at…”

_ ‘What could she possibly have that I’d want?’ _

Carver slapped battle calm over his heart. “Tell me where you need to go, and I’ll see you there.”

Stroud quit pretending he was deaf. “Hawke!” They both looked. The older Warden had the grace to flus slightly and tried again. “Carver. We are Wardens. We do not involve ourselves in politics, you know that. Our mission…”

Their ‘mission’ was something he’d invented to have an excuse to come. The others knew it. Thirie gave him a quarter-smile; she’d known both reasons, and had begrudged him neither.

“I’ll be fine, Carver.”

Fine.

How could she, when Isabela had kicked off a war inside the city, a war she needed magic to fight?

“Please, Carver. This is my fight.”

It had been years since she’d tried to fight his.

“Are you sure, sis?”

Larissa’s nod was sharp and jerky, but it was a nod. “Aveline’s just ahead. Please. I’ve put you in enough danger, and you don’t need to get dragged into my problems again.”

It wasn’t _her _problem, it was something _Isabela…_ _‘Of course not.’_

Of course she’d lied.

Carver gave her one last hug. “Die, and I’ll kill you.”

He couldn’t feel her laugh, but didn’t need to. “Sure. Same.”

“We’ll cut a path out the north gate, just...in case people need to leave.”  _ Promise me. _

He didn’t ask.

His sister didn’t have to lie. She wouldn’t leave Kirkwall, not if her friend had done something. That wasn’t Larissa.

“I’ll write. Promise.”

**

They stopped, still coated in Kirkwall’s pain, at the first inn they found several miles away. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t scum. The food was probably good the way the others were eating it, even if none of the Wardens could smell through the smoke and death they’d managed to extract themselves from.

“What’re you havin, other than a bath?”

Carver pulled a gold bangle, only slightly dented, from his pouch and dropped it on the bar. “Whiskey.”


End file.
